Disproving Nihilism
by dipole-dipole-attraction
Summary: Buffy is a vampire with a grudge against the Watcher's Council. She finds herself reliant on Spike the Vampire Slayer and his friends after she's captured by the Initiative.
1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or _Angel_ do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Thanks:** To **Kathryn** and **2zen2** for their amazing ninja-editing skills.

**Prologue**

**America **

**January 1, 1900**

"Are you in bed, sweetheart?" a woman's voice sounded through the door. "Yes, Mama!" her daughter shouted as she scampered away from her bedroom window and dove underneath the coverlet. Mama opened the door and poked her head in doubtfully. "You'll be getting up in the morning with the rest of us," Mama reminded her. "I know, Mama," the girl replied, "I'm already asleep." Mama smiled softly to herself and retired to her own bed.

As soon as the girl heard Mama's bedroom door close, she scrambled out of bed. After slipping into shoes and wrapping an overcoat around her nightgown, she returned to the window she unlatched when Mama interrupted and continued with her escape. As soon as the frame swung open, the girl lifted one leg, then the other, over the sill and let her feet connect with a jutting branch from the ancient oak tree that grew next to the side of her house.

The tree was so familiar to her she could pick her way down to the ground within the span of a minute. Tonight the girl felt she made her way down the tree with unusual ease. The moon must be especially bright tonight, she decided. The darkness didn't seem quite so oppressive.

Now her mission was to find the hairpin she wore that night to the New Year's Eve party. Mama had given it to her as an early birthday present so she could wear it to the party, and now she'd gone and lost it. Mama would never give her pretty things again if she knew her daughter had lost the hairpin!

Luckily she knew roughly where the bauble had fallen out. Halfway back from the party, trailing slowly behind their mother, she and her younger sister had started giving each other little pinches on the arm. Predictably, one pinched too hard and the other retaliated. Their little teasing pinches turned into more violent smacks and pokes.

Mama turned around after her little sister had given her a particularly hard whack to the back of her head. The girl might be the older of the two, but by some twist of fate she wasn't much taller, putting her head within whacking distance of the younger girl's hand. Mama called impatiently for them to hurry up and stop dawdling, which sent the two girls sprinting in a race to see who could get home first. The older sister won, of course.

She spotted the lost hairpin near where her sister had knocked it loose. She grinned triumphantly and swooped to pick it up. The grin and feeling of relief vanished as soon as the girl stood up. She suddenly felt uneasy. Why had she thought wandering around town, alone no less, at two o'clock in the morning, an hour when men made bold by too much liquor left the last of the parties and made their way home, was such a good idea?

"Bit late to be out, girl." Startled, she gasped and spun around. The man in front of her didn't look drunk at all, but he had the same smile and the same feral glint to his eyes that every mother warned her daughters about.

"I was just heading home," she replied, hardly succeeding in keeping a tremor out of her voice.

"Not anymore." The man grinned and then did something with his face that she had never seen before. The bone beneath his skin seemed to change as his brow shifted downward and the bridge of his nose widened. The overall effect created the illusion of a much wider space between the man's eyes, an animalistic trademark.

As the man reached for the girl, she felt something rising inside her along with the terror. Her entire body felt like it was going to catch fire, and she fleetingly wondered if she would do just that if she didn't somehow move. She also had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, but the situation seemed so familiar.

Without thinking, she put her hands up and shoved at the man right before his hands made contact with her neck. Both were surprised when the man was forcefully propelled back and landed on the ground five feet away. He wasn't nearly as fazed by it as she was, though, because in an instant he was up again and backhanded her across the face. She cried out and cupped her cheek

The mantra playing in her head like a scratched record was _I can't die like this, I can't die like this. _She squeezed her eyes shut…

…and felt a gust of wind run across her face and through her hair. Eyes open wide now, she saw her attacker wrestling on the ground with a larger man. They were both snarling like rabid dogs, but the girl was too shocked to even think of escaping. The larger man that had intervened was a more efficient brawler; within thirty seconds of tackling the girl's attacker he had gotten a fistful of hair and bashed the other man's head into the ground until he stopped moving.

He stood up and turned towards her and the girl got her first good look at him. He was by all means handsome, with dark brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Broad shoulders framed a strong build that would have made him appear stocky except for his height. He stood at least two and a half heads taller than her. He appeared handsome, indeed, but even more so he appeared dangerous. She could only pray that his intentions for rescuing her were good.

The man approached her slowly, holding his hands out in a gesture of supplication. He stopped right in front of her and held her gaze as he reached into an inner pocked of his calf-length grey coat. The girl expected him to pull out something threatening, like a gun or a knife. Instead, he pulled out an expertly carved length of wood. It was a twelve-inch long cylinder that tapered off at the end to form a sharp point. She supposed it could be used to hurt her, but it was so unexpected that she forgot all about being afraid as she stared at the man in confusion.

"What," she began, but just as she started to speak, the girl saw the man she had presumed to be dead clamor to his feet. She took a step backwards in preparation to turn and run, but the man in front of her pressed the wood into her hand and then moved behind her. The girl looked from the object in her hands to the crude looking man running towards her and vaguely realized that she should do something with it.

Before she could decide what, the charging man was upon her. The terror right before her certain death ripped through her again, but once again the dark man intervened. She felt one hand rest on her shoulder and the other wrap around her own gripping the wood. In a sudden jerk he brought their hands holding the wood up and outwards, so that the charging attacker impaled himself on the pointed end.

The girl watched the wood sink in to his chest and felt the shock of resistance run up her arm. She was all at once relieved to have defended herself and horrified that she had hurt the man. Then he crumbled into ash and sprinkled over the ground.

She turned to the man that had saved her, confused and no longer caring who he was. "My name's Angel," he told her, but she wasn't really listening to him.

"What's this?" she asked, gesturing towards the carved wood in her hand, but meaning much more than that. Angel smiled slightly.

"This is the dawn of a new era."

**Chapter 1**

**Sunnydale, 1999**

Staff Sergeant Hayes was not a man known for his sensitivity, especially towards rookies. Everyone who worked at the compound was a rookie for their first few years, regardless of their previous military experience. They saw things that would have boys in the Army quaking in their boots. Staff Hayes was a Vietnam veteran himself, but very few people had been at the compound long enough to remember his rookie days. He'd been involved with the project almost since it started, nearly two decades ago.

To say that in the years since Hayes had signed up with The Initiative, he'd only gone from a squad agent to a noncommissioned officer, would be a disregardful presumption. Hayes had repeatedly been recommended for commission, but he always staunchly insisted that he remain in his position as Staff Sergeant. He knew he'd only ever be satisfied in a noncom position, working directly with his squad and pushing his men to their limits, and then some. It was a well known fact in the compound that Staff Hayes' men made the most proficient field agents.

All this contributed to the god-like invulnerability his men, and superiors, saw in him.

That was why, when Agent Riley Finn saw Staff Hayes discreetly dab at the corners of his eyes in the middle of a debriefing, he knew something life-changing was about to happen.

Riley slipped out of the debriefing room as soon as his presence was no longer needed, and fell into step with Graham as a group of soldiers passed by and made their way down to the locker rooms. "Have you seen Hayes?" he asked his friend.

"No," Graham replied monotonously, and then looked at him with more interest.

"Why, you lookin' for him?"

"No," Riley replied, debating how much he could tell his friend with out disrespecting Hayes.

"He just seemed distracted, that's all."

"As long as the Staff isn't paying attention to me, I'm happy."

Riley and Graham reached their lockers, located directly opposite each other in one of the many rows of tall, gray standard metal doors. As each man reached his locker, they began the routine process of stripping off their military gear.

"Who's distracted?" Forrest asked from behind his own locker, next to Riley.

"Hayes," he replied as he unclipped his thermal scanner from his utility belt. As a rule of thumb, the most expensive equipment was put up first.

Forrest was in Staff Sergeant Hayes' squad. He had more contact with Hayes than both Riley and Graham combined. "He's being transferred," Forrest supplied nonchalantly. "Apparently the Special Ops mission down in South America hasn't been going smoothly. They need somebody good to lead a damage control team down there."

"And Hayes has to go?" Riley made it a question.

"Yeah, if he'd accepted a promotion…" Forrest hesitated, "the Staff Sergeant would have gone anyway. He knows where he's needed."

Riley noticed the lack of emotion in Forrest's voice. He displayed no signs of an opinion about the fact that his squad leader was being transferred, although Riley hadn't been there when Forrest first received the news. He realized then that his friend _liked_ the hard-ass Hayes. His lack of expression was a product of his admiration for the Staff's strict sense of duty and unrelenting standards. Forrest's fellow squad members would most likely be popping the champagne later tonight. Riley wondered if Forrest was invited.

He glanced at Graham when he spoke up and saw that the other soldier understood. "What's so bad about leaving Sunnydale? I would have thought he'd be glad to get out of this science experiment and into some real heat."

"He would," Forrest agreed, "but he's got a woman here in Sunnydale." The two other soldiers did a comical double-take, but Forrest didn't notice. "That just goes to show what guys like us can expect from getting involved with a normal girl." Forrest slammed his locker shut with the palm of his hand and stalked off towards the elevator. One of the benefits of living directly above The Initiative's entrance was you could skip the facility showers and head up to the comfort of your own bathroom.

"He didn't mean anything by that," Graham said quietly.

"Huh?" Riley intoned, not understanding.

"That girl you've been chasing, what was her name again?"

"Buffy. And I haven't been 'chasing' her," Riley said defensively.

To Riley, Graham sounded like he was speaking of the girl as a piece of meat to be slobbered over and chased by hungry dogs, hungry horny dogs. One thing Riley didn't do was objectify women.

Graham ignored his friend's indignation. "You know Forrest. He's just afraid of commitment." It was partly true. Riley had enough experience being a Psych 101 TA to identify his friend's callous behavior towards women. Forrest feared the type of intimacy that came from loving another person. That's why he bed-hopped around campus and never made the promised "call back." It's why he ruined every relationship he had with a girl who could have made him happy, and why he vehemently insisted that the only good use for a girl was as a piece of ass.

"I tried to set him up with Lisa, y'know, the cute nurse, but I don't think he even looked at her," Graham continued.

"Lisa's a lesbian."

"Really? Are you sure?" He paused and looked at Riley. "Of course you're sure."

Riley sighed, "I'll see you later upstairs. I've got to see Professor Walsh before I go."

"Right," Graham nodded and Riley left the locker room.

The science labs were on the opposite end of the complex than the locker rooms. Generally, soldiers and scientists didn't mix. Riley thought of them as different parts of a larger, more complex Initiative machine. The soldiers were the engine, the power source. They did the dangerous work that kept the Initiative running in its stock of demons, providing the fuel for the Initiative project. The scientists and lab workers were cogs in the wheel that turned the fuel into energy with their experiments and progress that drove the Initiative closer and closer to success. They had little in common, except for the desire to create a better world.

Riley had met Professor Walsh before he moved to Sunnydale. In fact, she was the reason he was there, working at the Initiative base. Maggie Walsh had been at a military training base in Iowa three and a half years ago, posing as a weapons inspector. In reality, she was sealing a business transaction with one of the lower ranking generals who had invented the wireless taser-blasters that Initiative field agents used for capture missions, but Riley hadn't known that at the time. He also hadn't known that he'd caught Professor Walsh's eye as he escorted her through a tour of the base. But apparently, he had, because two months later he was offered a full scholarship at UC Sunnydale and residence in a local fraternity.

Riley stopped at the door to the HST holding hallway and punched in the six digit code. The door unlocked with a buzz and he began briskly down the hallway. The hallway could hold 200 HSTs, each in their own five by five foot cell. Professor Walsh's office was close to the end of the hall. Being one of the few field agents to actually converse with the scientists on a regular basis, Riley knew that the further down the hall one went, the further away from the bustle of soldiers, generals, supply trucks and the like, the significance of the projects increased.

He was almost at Professor Walsh's door, when something made him halt in his tracks. He thought he had seen something, but what was it? He'd had no conscious thought when he stopped, just the impression that he'd gotten a glimpse of something important. Riley looked around confusedly, and then he saw her. Buffy.

She was sitting cross-legged on the white paneled floor of a HST containment cell, resting against the back wall and looking at him with the same surprise he was feeling. He noticed she was wearing the same clothes he'd seen her in Friday night, faded blue jeans and a yellow camisole with lacy trim underneath a light blue sweater. She was in Professor Walsh's evening Psych 101 class, the same one he was a TA in. It was just last night that he ran into her after he left at the Espresso Pump, and they'd had decaf coffee together. Riley could even remember what she ordered, a decaf white chocolate latte with skim milk and no whip cream. He'd seen her just last night, human and bubbling with life. What had happened after he left her?

Riley was pulled out of his stunned state by Professor Walsh's door opening. "Agent Finn, I was starting to wonder where you were!" she exclaimed, and gestured him inside her office. His eyes flickered back to Buffy, who was watching him intently, but he followed Professor Walsh into her office without a word.

She shut the door behind them, and turned to face him with a rare smile on her face. "I need you to do me a favor, Riley. The HST database network has crashed again and I have to go get it back online so the squad instructors can put together their presentation on how to capture Polgaras. I need you to take the test tubes off the burner once they start to boil and then leave them in the rack."

Riley nodded and gave her a "yes ma'am" before she was out the door.

It didn't take long for the clear liquid inside the test tubes to bubble, less than 30 seconds, in fact, and Riley realized he didn't have any prongs. He stepped out of Professor Walsh's office and went into the supply room across the hall. He smelled smoke immediately. The hallway security camera attendant was perched on top of a crate taking a smoking break.

"Hey," Riley barked, and the guard jumped to his feet.

"Sir," he began, but Riley cut him off coolly, "Get back to your post before I report you." The guard fumbled to put out his cigarette, and raced out the door.

In any other case, Riley would have reported the guard, but in all honesty the position was hardly needed. Nothing had ever broken out of the Initiative.

He grabbed a pair of tongs off the shelf and turned around. His eyes fell on Buffy again, sitting there, looking so out of place in the blanch containment cell. She was a Hostile now, but how? Something must have happened to her last night, after he left her. A vampire got her and turned her into a thing like itself, and it was his fault because he didn't walk her home from the Espresso Pump. She said she lived off campus.

Riley felt an overriding guilt for failing her, for failing the Initiative, and the need to apologize to her became the most important thing. He glanced at the negligent security guard, who was still hurrying down the long hallway back to his post. In the back of his mind, Riley knew what he was doing was a very, very bad idea. He punched in the code to Buffy's cell door.

The Plexiglas door slid open with a quiet swoosh, and for the span of several seconds, a moment that felt like hours to Riley, Buffy just stared at him. Wide green eyes with tinges of hazel stared up at him with the most open, yet somehow unreadable expression. Then, in a flurry of movement, she was on her feet and darting past him.

"Wait!" He reached for her and caught his hand on her charm bracelet. Buffy didn't stop, and the bead clasp on her bracelet snapped. Little clay beads went flying everywhere.

"Hey!" she yelled angrily and turned back to him, giving Riley a flash of her white teeth. Her canines were elongated. Riley suddenly remembered what he had been told in the debriefing room less than an hour ago. They thought they had found a new breed of vampire. One that blended in more easily with humans. One that didn't have the telltale facial deformities. Like Buffy.

Riley watched the girl crawl around on the floor, looking for something off her bracelet. _I really should be doing something, _he thought. But what? She was still Buffy, the peculiar girl who had recently captured his heart. Stopping her, putting her back in that cell, just seemed _wrong._ So he just stood there dumbly and watched.

The security guard, however, appeared to have recovered his motivation. He was running towards them with his gun already out. Just before he reached them, Buffy apparently found whatever it was she was looking for and started in the opposite direction. She plowed right into the guard before she was even fully standing, sending him sprawling to the ground as she stumbled before breaking into an all out run.

The guard panicked and fired several blind shots down the hallway before Riley disarmed him. He looked back up just in time to see Buffy slipping into the ventilation system.

"You want to keep your job?" Riley asked the security guard as several people came running down the hallway.

"Yes, sir," the guard answered nervously.

"Good," he replied tersely. "You were changing the tapes when this happened. None of this was recorded. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Thanks:** To **Kathryn** for beta'ing, and to everyone who's left a review!

**Chapter 2**

**Sunnydale, 1999**

When Buffy had woken up in the sterile cell block, eerily white on every surface except for the front wall which was completely see-through, her first thought was that she was in Germany. Then she remembered WWII was over and Nazism was so passé. Her second guess was the Watcher's Council had finally caught up with her and was making pie charts according to effectiveness of all the ways they could torture her before ultimately bringing her to a slow and painful death. But then, that wasn't really their style, they were quite to the point when it came to things like annihilating the forces of darkness. And also, the presence of the few other miscellaneous demons she could see from her cell indicated she was hostage to someone who saw her as an anonymous demon, as opposed to a mortal enemy.

So with Nazis crossed off the very short (singular, actually) list of collectives that were interested in capturing and manipulating supernatural beings, that meant this organization had to be something new. Buffy wasn't sure if that was going to turn out to be a plus, because she would be underestimated, or if it meant that she was royally screwed because they'd overestimate her and she wouldn't get an out.

What she never would have expected, was that the cute Psych 101 TA was part of whatever group of idiots that thought messing around with beings they would never understand was a brilliant idea. Honestly, Buffy was disappointed. She'd enjoyed the modest flirtations they'd started exchanging. Riley was so cute and sweet and naïve in a way that made her want to bite him, just so she could see the look on his face. It was just so hard to find a nice guy nowadays.

Buffy wasn't going to shed any tears over him, though. She'd probably feel kind of bad if she had to kill him, because he did buy her coffee and all; but when her opportunity came, if he was between her and the exits, she wouldn't hesitate. There was no way she was going to be held captive, regardless of whether her captors were anti-demon GI Joes or looking to get a foot up in the underworld. And that last part really didn't make any sense, because if anything, your foot would be _down_ in the underworld, which by her usage wasn't even a world at all, just the forces of darkness running amuck in the mortal realm.

Riley, ironically, turned out to be her golden ticket out. She didn't know why he let her out, but she sure as hell wasn't going to take the time to find out. The cell blocks with electric see-through walls didn't exactly scream "we come in peace." Now, if she'd woken up in a downy bed, as opposed to the floor, with four opaque non-electrical walls and a complimentary breakfast, she might have stayed long enough to see what they wanted, laugh in their faces, and walk out with a flip of her hair.

Instead she had to wiggle through the ventilation system with a bullet lodged in her shoulder from that stupid security guard until she found what looked like an empty elevator shaft, and climb up six stories on the elevator cables like a retarded monkey.

Finally, at the top, she found a frame where it looked like elevator doors should go, but instead there was a roughly sanded wood panel the size of a doggie door, if it were made for a German Shepherd, that slid into the wall to reveal a small doorway. There was a cardboard box on the other side of the passage way, but she kicked it far enough away from the entrance that she could climb into what appeared to be the back of a storage room.

Buffy covered the secret door back up and left the storage room. She found herself on the campus of UC Sunnydale. At least she had woken up in the same town she was knocked out in. That in itself was curious. Buffy had no memory of being captured, so she must have been rendered unconscious. But how could anyone have gotten close enough to her to attack without her ever noticing? That was a disturbing thought for another time. Right now, she needed blood.

It'd been at least a day and a half since she'd had blood, and while she wouldn't go catatonic if she didn't get any immediately, she was starting to feel a little crazed. Taking a bullet to the shoulder and then climbing six stories to freedom certainly hadn't helped. She could feel the back of her shirt sticking to her where her own blood had soaked it through, ruining it and her favorite sweater. At least for right now her shoulder wouldn't start to heal around the bullet. That was never fun. But she needed blood soon, before her bloodlust grew too strong. And then she had to figure out a way to get that bullet out.

It was incredibly convenient that she'd come out not far from the dorms. Less so that it was a Saturday night and everybody who knew anybody was out partying. But beggars can't be choosers, Buffy supposed. She'd just have to find a geek.

After walking up and down a few halls, she finally found a dorm room that had sappy country music playing on the other side. Buffy knocked on the door and then stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall. Her plan was to grab the sucker when they poked their head out the door, but she was rewarded with a "come in," instead. Feeling a tad giddy, which Buffy knew was from her bloodlust but couldn't control anyway, she slipped through the door and closed in on her victim.

She was momentarily surprised when she recognized the redhead on the bed. "You!" Buffy exclaimed needlessly. Willow echoed her in a higher, more strained voice. Buffy almost turned around and left right then. If she killed, or even drank from the Slayer's friend Spike would undoubtedly be on a vengeance mission against all bloodsuckers for at least a month. If he found out the vampire in question was oh, say, _her, _then she'd have the Council and their pronounced "tool" on her tail, and possibly whatever new wannabes that were camping underneath the school. After her last stint, the Watcher's Council would want her ashes in a zip-lock baggie before they declared anything final.

She almost ran to find the first bus out of Sunnydale, but the residual effects of magic permeated the air and clung to the redhead like perfume. Her signature was light and sweet, teasing Buffy's senses as she breathed in deeply, trying to take in more than there was. The witch-magic would still be running through Willow's bloodstream, flavoring her blood with the demure taste of a fresh strawberry teetering on the edge of ripeness. It was too much. She needed this girl's blood.

"Long time, no see," she said to Willow, "sorry we can't catch up, but I'm in a bit of a hurry." She caught the witch as Willow tried to make a run for the door, and covered her mouth to muffle a scream. All business, Buffy went right for Willow's neck, anticipating the sweet blood filling her mouth and pooling in her belly, giving her the energy her body needed to replenish itself. Instead, Buffy received an unpleasant surprise.

Before her canines had even touched the girl's neck, Buffy lost control over her own body as shockwaves zapped her central nervous system. Rapid fire bolts of electricity pierced her brain and caused her muscles to twitch and convulse. She fell to the carpet in a boneless heap, and Buffy was pretty sure that if she had a bladder to lose, she would be in order for a shower and change of clothes.

Embarrassed was an understatement for what she was feeling as she picked herself up off the floor and looked at the witch. "Did you do that?" Buffy demanded, but the answer was obvious from the expression on Willow's face.

"No," she answered, looking confused and terrified.

"Oh," Buffy said lamely, very much wigged. She couldn't sense a force field around the girl, and Willow wasn't aware of doing anything witchy. What had happened?

Figuring blood would be the answer to all her problems, Buffy grabbed Willow again. The witch _eeped _and squeezed her eyes closed. Once again, Buffy's body seized right before she would've had a mouthful of rejuvenating, magic-laced blood. The electric shocks that pierced in between her ears made her shriek and clutch at her head.

Now Buffy just felt pitiful. She was hunched over with her hands buried in her hair; and Willow wasn't even trying to run away. In fact, the witch didn't look scared at all anymore, just extremely incredulous.

"Um, are you okay?" she asked meekly.

"No, I'm not okay!" Buffy barked, feeling tears she hadn't even known were building slide down her cheeks. "I am so far from okay I couldn't even find it with a map! There is something majorly wrong with me!" She straightened up and tried to look like she still had a piece of her dignity. "I think I should go," she said awkwardly.

"What?" the witch exclaimed, sounding like she was about to cry too. "You can't make something work so you just give up and leave?" It looked like someone had opened up the floodgates in Willow's tear ducts. Her chin wobbled. Buffy was extremely confused. "How incredibly selfish is that?" Willow snapped angrily.

"What are you—"

Both girls jumped when the power suddenly switched off. Buffy could faintly see Willow in the darkness, meaning the witch was completely blind. Within a minute she could also sense heavy footfalls trumping their way through the dorm. Buffy had a sinking feeling she knew who it was.

"Willow," she whispered softly.

"Yeah?"

Before Buffy could respond, the door was kicked open, and several men in storm-trooper getup filed into the dorm room. It was the same freak organization that thought they could lock her up in a giant hamster cage. There was no way in hell she was being captured again.

"What about the civilian, sir?" one of them asked.

"Quarantine," another answered. They were going to take the witch as well, Buffy realized.

Without turning around, Buffy hooked her arms around Willow's waist and jumped backwards over her bed, crashing through the window. They fell together, the screaming witch holding her arms out trying futilely to get a purchase on something while Buffy tried desperately to make sure the other girl's head wasn't going to crack into the pavement when they landed.

She was successful—painfully, at that—and managed to land the four story fall with Willow directly on top of her. Buffy's body took the brunt of the impact. Glass from the window cut into her back and the back of the other girl's head had slammed into her nose. Buffy wondered briefly if she'd shattered her own skull. She would have liked to lay motionless on the pavement for several minutes, but the storm troopers were too close. Buffy pulled Willow up by the arm, and dragged her along as she sprinted across campus.

Ten solid minutes of running found the two girls crouched in the space between a hedge and the side of a house in the residential area, panting for breath. Well, Willow was panting. Buffy was just more exhausted then she could ever remember being.

"I think we lost them," Willow said in between huge gulps of air.

"Uh-huh," Buffy replied distractedly as she tracked the position of the storm trooper that was creeping up on them. She started crawling along the side of the house on her hands and knees. Willow followed for want of anything better to do.

Buffy paused at the end of the shield of vegetation and debated what to do. The GI Joe was slowly closing in on them. They had to get out of the bushes before they were trapped there, but once they left the cover of the hedges they would be visible targets. A dart whistled through the air and _plunked_ into the side of the house, pinning several leaves in the process. That made up Buffy's mind for her.

Grabbing Willow by the hand again, she plowed forward. Too late Buffy realized that this was what the storm trooper had expected her to do, and she felt the sharp pain of a dart lodge in her lower back. One of them tripped, Buffy wasn't sure who, and they both went down in a heap of arms and legs.

Their pursuer was on them too fast, hauling Willow up with his hands underneath her arms. She struggled and tried to turn around to hit at him, but he easily overpowered her. Buffy launched herself off the ground and into the pair, bringing all three of them back down to the ground. Willow managed to wiggle free from the stunned man and Buffy rolled on top of him, pinning his arms down with both her legs.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the pain she knew was coming, Buffy grabbed the commando's head with both hands and slammed it back into the ground. She landed face first in the dirt as her brain exploded with pain and her body jerked from the force of shockwaves running down her spine. Unconsciousness was a welcome side effect.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Summary**: Buffy, a vampire with a grudge against the Council, is captured by the Initiative and finds herself dependent on her enemy: Spike the Vampire Slayer and his band of white-hats.

**Pairing**:Buffy and Spike

**Rating**:PG-13

**Thanks:** To **justsue** for being a great beta!

**Chapter 3**

**Sunnydale**

**1997**

By the time Willow and Xander figured out where Spike had gone, he was already on the last vampire. They snuck out the back door of the Bronze just in time to see him sink a stake into its chest. He erupted into dust and fell in a light coat over the pavement.

"Spike, you could have told us where you were going," Willow said softly.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, "how else are we going to help you thwart the forces of evil?"

A few months ago Spike would have told them both to piss off. A shy, nerdy little redhead and the whelp Harris weren't likely companions for Spike. But their persistence--tagging along when he was patrolling, showing up at the library to research impending apocalypses, and just generally being in the way--while initially annoying as hell, had manifested into a deeper revelation. They cared.

Sure, lots of people _cared._ They cared about saving the world. They cared about slaying monsters, feeling like they made a difference in the world. They cared about adventure and glory, and making sure the world lived to see another episode of _Passions._ But Willow and Xander, they cared about him. And even Spike, badass lone-wolf figure that he was, could appreciate the value of that. But that didn't mean he couldn't still give Harris a hard time.

"Don't you mean so you can yell obscenities from behind Red's back until _I_ dust the baddies?"

As expected, Xander sputtered indignantly. "That was only one time! And I got a few good shots in before Willow had to save me!" Spike ignored him. He spoke more softly to Willow, "I'll let you know next time." She gave him one of her awkward, but sincere little smiles that always made him wonder how such a fragile looking girl could be brave enough to take on vampires and demons.

"Let's go back inside," she suggested.

"Hang on," Spike said, rolling a stake between the palms of his hands. There was still a vampire in the alleyway. Without warning, he turned sharply on his heel and threw the stake, sending it flying end over end into the darkness. They heard it clang uselessly into a dumpster.

"That would've been cool if it had, ya know, come anywhere close to dusting me," a feminine voice said. The girl stepping from the shadows didn't look anything like a vampire.

Most vampires like to play up the darkness and mystery in their choice of wardrobe. This one didn't. She was wearing a mini jean skirt, white tennis shoes, and a cream colored tank top underneath a translucent white sweater. Topping off the So Cal valley girl image was a light tan and a head of highlighted blond hair…although, Spike thought he could see a little tattoo on her chest, peeking out the top of her shirt.

Undaunted by her confident attitude, he pulled another stake out of his back pocket and threw it just like the first. This one was dead on, aimed straight at her heart. It took a moment for everyone, excluding the vampire herself, to realize that she wasn't dust. She'd caught the stake between the palms of her hands, its point two inches from her chest.

"Like I didn't see that coming," she scoffed and tossed the stake at Spike's feet.

"Why the bloody hell are you here," he asked, irritated, "besides to critique my slaying skills?"

"Spike!" Willow hissed admonishingly.

"She's a vampire, Will," Xander told her, "pretty sure she already knows Spike's the Slayer."

"Oh, right."

"I'm here to kill you." The vampire told Spike honestly. A small shrug and carefree expression indicated it was no big deal.

"You know how many vampires have said that to me?" Spike asked her rhetorically. "I wouldn't know either. I've killed them all."

"I'm not like most vampires," she said cryptically, and smiled. A hint of fang showed on her normal, human face.

------

Spike sat back with his feet propped on the desk and picked at his black nail polish. His Watcher and legal guardian, Rupert Giles, hated both habits, which only gave Spike more incentive to do them. He let his friends fill Giles in on the occurrence in the alley, only lightly snorting when Xander gave himself a more involved role. He wasn't showing it, but the vampire last night had him concerned. Overconfident, Bela Lugosi vampires were no trouble. They were predictable. But the girl last night, she was different. Her whole demeanor was completely wrong. And then there was the fact that her canines dropped without switching to game face. What else could she do that other vampires couldn't?

"Giles, what's wrong?" Willow asked suddenly. The librarian looked unsettled, freshly polished glasses frozen halfway to his face.

"You say this vampire had fangs, but not demonic features?" He asked.

"Yeah," Xander confirmed.

The three teenagers watched as Giles turned abruptly into his office and came out carrying a hefty textbook. Spike recognized it immediately. It was a reference guide for Watchers, containing everything from training methods to what to do in the face of an apocalypse. Giles used to refer to it often, before he realized there was nothing in it that would help him deal with a rebellious teenager.

Now he flipped franticly through the glossy pages, muttering incoherently under his breath until he slapped down the book in front of Spike and demanded, "Is this the vampire you saw?"

Taking up almost half a page was a sketch, originally hand drawn by a Council member, of the vampire he had seen last night. Her features were rougher, and her face was twisted with malice, but it was definitely her. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl, revealing the fangs that could drop without her face changing, covered in blood. Whoever drew the picture had seen a monster, an image radically different from the one Spike encountered last night.

A side note was scribbled on the sketch, in miniscule cursive, stereotypical of Watchers. "Crucifix tattoo, above left breast," it read. "Yeah, that's her," Spike confirmed.

Xander added, "More or less."

Willow was the only one not concentrating on the picture. She was reading the text. "Uh, Giles?" she asked, her voice wavering. Giles either didn't hear her or decided to ignore her.

"That's impossible," he said forcefully. "That vampire died two years ago in Prague, she—"

"She's alive." A new voice entered the library. Angel stood in the doorway, looking somber. But then again, he looked somber most of the time.

Angel was a vampire with a soul and a nose for trouble. He'd showed up like a supernatural Uncle Abner after Spike and Giles moved to Sunnydale, popping up at the most unexpected times to give cryptic warnings. It pained Spike to admit it, but Angel had saved him from a bad situation more than a few times. That didn't make him feel any more inclined to play nice with the vampire, though. Sunnydale wasn't big enough for the both of them, as the saying went.

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

Angel looked at him and said simply, "She's alive and she's here."

That was one of the things Spike hated about Angel. When you were ready for a bit of rest and relaxation, the bloke showed up and yammered on about rising evils or age-old prophecies. But when you wanted a straight answer out of him he spoke in circles, like he was trying to impress you with his cryptic mysticism. It drove Spike batty. Willow, on the other hand, thought he was "helpful".

"How can you be sure?" Giles demanded.

"I know her," the vampire said softly, looking at the floor.

"Buffy came for Giles?" Willow asked, putting a name to the vampire. "This says she kills…" she trailed off and looked at the Watcher.

"For Spike," Angel clarified.

"Got a Barbie after me, do I?" Spike remarked leisurely, one hand running provocatively over his chest. "The ladies never can contain themselves."

"Spike," Willow said insistently, "if this Buffy person is really here, you can't take this lightly. It says here that she's killed eleven Slayers in the past century and hundreds of Council members, and they don't even think she's been a vampire for more than two hundred years."

He hadn't honestly been taking it lightly before, but now Spike let his devil-may-care façade drop. Eleven Slayers in the past century were dead at the hands of one vampire. That was probably somewhere around a third of them. Bollocks.

"She won't be making it twelve," he said in a hard voice. Spike stood up and reached for a stake.

------

She was waiting for him in front of the flat. Actually, she was sitting at Giles' patio table and looking for split ends in her hair, but the intent was the same.

"How'd you find me?" Spike asked.

"Watcher's Council keeps it on record," Buffy answered.

"And you, what, just walked in and asked for it?"

"Pfft, no!" she snorted, as if he was the stupid one. "They completely hate me. If I had a nickel for every time I've broken in to the Watcher's Council, I'd…" she trailed off for a moment and looked speculative before finishing, "well, I'd have a lot of nickels!" Buffy even glared at Spike, as if her inability to string together a punch line was somehow his fault.

_This vamp is a joke, _Spike thought. There was nothing about her to suggest she was a vicious killer. But then again, the psychotic-serial-killer-guy-next-door type always just looked like the guy next door. Giles had been thoroughly concerned at the news of Buffy's presence, made her sound like the idol of evil undead and whatnot. And then there was the fact that she'd already killed eleven Slayers. But looking at her now, Spike couldn't imagine that she'd be so tough.

"We going to fight, or are you just gonna sit there and twirl you hair at me?" he drawled.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Buffy's mouth, and when she stood up she grabbed the rim of Giles' patio table and shoved it out of the way. The table slid over stone tiles until it was stopped by the garden wall, and the Plexiglas tabletop shattered with the impact.

Buffy waited for him to come to her, and easily evaded his first swing. She ducked underneath his right arm and popped up behind him to deliver a powerful kick to his back. Spike smashed face-first into the wall, not far from Giles' broken table.

Maybe he should rethink that whole "not so tough" idea.

Seconds later he heard her come at him again. When she grabbed a handful of his jacket to spin him around, he spun with her and brought his left arm up to backhand her across the face. Her head snapped to the right and she spat blood. Spike continued with several body blows before she had time to recover. Spike thought he had the upper hand, but the second he paused to pull out a stake Buffy straightened up and popped him in the nose twice.

"Ow!" he cried, as his hands flew to his face to make sure it wasn't broken. "Lay off the nose, woman!"

"You made me spit blood!" Buffy accused, and tried to kick him in the midsection. He caught her foot before it connected and pulled. Her shoe came off in his hands, startling him, and giving Buffy another opportunity to shove him backwards. When she grabbed the lapels of his collar and moved in to bite him, Spike pushed against her shoulders and jerked his knee up in between her legs. On a man, the move would have been incapacitating. Buffy was decidedly female, but Spike figured it would take her attention away from his neck, even if it was to mock him.

Their difference in height caused Buffy's feet to leave the ground for a moment as she was lifted by his leg. When her feet connected with the ground again she had lost her center of balance, and slipped on the pebbles of broken tabletop. Spike was pulled down with her as she fell backwards. He landed flush on top of her, hands still holding her shoulders.

For one still moment they just looked at each other. Then Buffy pushed him off her and scrambled to her feet. "Don't get cocky," she snapped, before disappearing. Spike stared after her and wondered if she meant his attitude…or something else.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Summary**: Buffy, a vampire with a grudge against the Council, is captured by the Initiative and finds herself dependent on her enemy: Spike the Vampire Slayer and his band of white-hats.

**Pairing**:Buffy and Spike

**Rating**:PG-13

**Thanks:** To **justsue** for being a great beta!

**Chapter 4**

**London**

**March, 1995**

Buffy had infiltrated the Watcher's Council Headquarters more times than she could count. It was simple at first, she could walk right in the front doors under the pretense of being a Slayer-in-Training and hide until everyone had gone home for the night, and then do her damage. It only took them a few years to catch on. Then every Council member knew her name and had memorized a sketch of her face. That was when Buffy had to start getting more inventive.

But the James Bond maneuvers had gotten old. Their security had become impossibly tight in the past decade. The Watcher's Council expected her to drop in on a wire or loop their security tapes, which had never actually worked for her. Buffy needed something new. That was why tonight, she was going back to the basics.

Buffy straightened her beige suede suit and walked purposefully into the front lobby.

"Marie!" A bespectacled middle-age man came towards her smiling pleasantly. "I didn't see you at lunch today, is everything alright?"

Buffy smiled back at the man, and so did the face of Marianne King. "Oh, you know how it is with the Department of Arcane Texts. One of the novices thinks he's suddenly deciphered the next Slayer Codex and I have to spend my lunch hour figuring out that he was looking at an upside-down engraving from the Rosetta Stone."

The man laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, Marie, I can't fathom how you put up with the people employed in your department. Peterson, you know, is all ways after me with his _grand_ ideas about transferring the entirety of the demon archives onto a computer. And I always tell him--"

"Well, it's been nice chatting," Buffy said quickly, and made to walk around him.

"By the way," he said, stopping her, "I couldn't help but notice your necklace. Is it new?"

Buffy glanced nervously down at the jewels hanging around her neck. It was Freyja's Strand, a mystical treasure that allowed the wearer to take the form of anyone they met--or in Buffy's case, killed. Drusilla had played an obsession with the jewels back in the 40s and tried to convince Buffy to join her on a climb up a frozen mountain in Norway to steal them from an ice demon. Buffy wouldn't have thought of them again, except she found them last week in a thrift shop.

"This old thing?" she asked playfully, and the man blinked at her change in tone. "It's a family heirloom," Buffy amended in her best high society voice, and Marie's friend visibly relaxed. "We'll do lunch tomorrow," she said, and walked quickly away before he could call her back.

Buffy climbed the staircase up to the second floor and walked the length of the left wing. A few people smiled or nodded to her, but she paid them no mind. At the very end of the left wing, behind a set of formal mahogany doors, was the board room. There were many board rooms in the Council building—seventeen to be exact—but only one of them interested Buffy. The true Council of Watchers met there, the six men that decided the fate of young girls from all over the world.

The Watcher's Council began with six men, twelve centuries ago. Six men gathered to guide one girl with the strength and skill to slay vampires and the forces of darkness. They called her the Vampire Slayer and themselves her Watchers, and when she died the Watchers found another girl with the spirit of the Vampire Slayer, and when she died they found another. The Watchers did this until they themselves died, and then their sons took their place as Watchers.

Over the centuries the Watcher's Council expanded, becoming a band of men and women dedicated to banishing evil from this world. Guiding Slayers became only a part of their mission, and each Slayer was given only one Watcher to train and guide her. But there was still always the council of six, who oversaw everything in regards to the Slayer and her Watcher.

Quentin Travers was one of these men, and Buffy could feel hate, tangible and potent, rise within her at the sight of him. He came out of the board room, accompanied by two severe looking Watchers. Buffy recognized them after a moment; they were Council operatives, not unlike hitmen. These two were Weatherby and Kingston, which Buffy had the pleasure of giving the slip numerous times.

Buffy waited until she was sure Travers and his flunkies were far enough away that they wouldn't notice, and slipped into the board room. She crossed directly to the back wall and swept and hanging tapestry out of the way to reveal a hidden safe, right where Marianne King had said it would be. With a bit of i _persuasion /i _, Buffy could turn the most introverted person in to a talker. Buffy started to put in the combination, and then realized the safe was already open.

It was empty.

Whirling around and cursing, Buffy realized that someone else was the room.

"Ms. King," a young man said urgently, "what are you doing in here?" There was panic in his voice and the scent of his fear flavored the air. It was like licking the salt off a cracker.

"Where's the book?" Buffy demanded.

"It's safe, Ms. King, but you must come with me at once. The wards are going off, there is a vampire on the premises…they think it might be—"

"Tell me where the book is."

The young man opened his jacket to reveal a tome he was clutching protectively to his chest. In an instant, Buffy had ripped the book out of his grasp and knocked him out cold. She flipped through the pages and tore the last two pages of text out. Buffy stuffed what she came for into her chest pocket and dropped the book back on the young man's chest. She positioned her heeled foot over his windpipe, the shoe a nice beige leather to match Ms. King's suit. Buffy prepared to crush the young man's windpipe, but then stopped.

She looked at him for a moment. His hair was brown and fine, although slightly unruly. It framed a smooth, square face with a prominent chin. He looked a bit like Travers, she thought, and then realized that the young man was probably his son. He had a destiny, just like his father did, and tonight was probably his first test of faith—putting himself in harm's way so that his father could make a timely escape. One day, the young man would be just like his dad, but for now, he was still young and innocent.

There would be plenty of time to kill him later.

**A/N: Freyja's Strand **is from the book _Spike and Dru: Pretty Maids all in a Row_by Christopher Golden.

------

**Sunnydale, 1999**

Giles wasn't accustomed to going to bed before one in the morning. It was one of the unmentioned habits a new Watcher quickly learned. Granted, though no longer employed by the Watcher's Council, Giles still maintained many of the conventions he had adopted as Spike's Watcher; one of them being waiting up half the night for a Slayer who was as likely to return before midnight as he was to find a card game to crash until dawn. Spike might live in the dormitories now, but he was still supposed to call after patrol. He rarely did. All in all, Giles was starting to feel a wee bit unneeded.

Suffice to say, Giles was both surprised and quite concerned when he heard the frantic pounding on his front door shortly after midnight. He imagined it was Spike, badly injured or coming to describe a particularly nasty demon he had run into on patrol that would signal a coming apocalypse. He felt slightly guilty for hoping.

It wasn't Spike, and his realization of that triggered an initial feeling of disappointment. But on further inspection, Giles noticed that the sight that greeted him was far from mundane. Willow, leaning against the doorframe, was red in the face and looking distraught. Perspiration made her skin shine and there was a smudge of dirt across her left cheek. Behind her stood Xander, a young woman cradled to his chest, unconscious and looking badly beaten.

"Giles!" Willow said breathlessly, and immediately rushed into his flat and collapsed onto his sofa.

"Dear Lord, what's happened?" he exclaimed.

Xander was still standing outside the flat looking hesitant. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Giles asked him. "Bring her in here," he demanded, shoving everything off of his dining table--books, notepads, pencils, and a little digital clock--all fell to the floor.

Xander sighed, but conceded with an "All right," and laid the injured woman on the table.

Giles gave half his attention to Willow, who was looking at him as if she'd done something wrong, whilst she recounted how commandos had raided her dormitory. A stray name caught his full attention.

"Buffy?" he asked sharply. Willow stopped talking abruptly and glanced at the woman on the table. Giles looked at her too, the monster he had unwittingly just invited into his house.

"Bloody Hell!" he shouted, and scrambled to grab a crossbow lying on the kitchen counter. The crossbow was broken, that's why it was lying out in the first place, but that fact didn't seem so important in the face of his blind panic.

"Giles, wait!" Willow rose and came to stand next to the table.

"Willow seems to think she's harmless," Xander said, although once he had deposited the vampire on the table he had immediately retreated to the back of the living room.

" i _Harmless_/i " Giles intoned incredulously. Buffy had terrorized the Watcher's Council for the better part of the past century. She hunted Council members like game, stole resources from their headquarters, and had destroyed entire archives. She was a demon.

"What insanity possessed you to bring her into my home?" Giles demanded harshly. He was wary and confused. Willow was a smart girl and he'd always given her credence. She obviously had a story to tell that somehow concluded in her declaration that Buffy was harmless, but as of yet she hadn't made any sense.

"Giles, something's happened to her," Willow said, sounding a bit hurt by his outburst. "Look," she raised the vampire's head and showed them a small shaved patch the size of a quarter on the back of her skull. An incision had been made and then stitched up. "I think the commandos were after her, and I was just in the way," she said speculatively. "They must've captured her and put something in her brain, a behavioral modifier or something, because every time she tried to bite me she went all spazzy," Willow clarified.

"So these commandos are good guys," Xander said, "I mean, they're like demon catchers or something."

"Sure, good guys. Except for the part where I was running for my life from them," Willow snarked.

"But why did you bring her here?" Giles asked, referring to Buffy. He wasn't giving asylum to a vicious demon, whether her foes were theirs as well or not. By all rights, he should be staking her now. When had there been a better opportunity to take out the Council's greatest threat? If he let this window pass him by, would there ever be another one? But Willow had a point to make, and he had to hear her out before a decision was made.

"She saved my life, Giles. I couldn't just leave her like this," Willow explained. Giles sighed and massaged his temples. Trust the young redhead to want to bandage up a wounded tiger that would eat her if it could. "And yeah, so maybe she was trying to kill me right before that, but she's probably also got information about the commandos."

Deep down, he already knew he'd comply with Willow's wishes, but the Watcher in him couldn't let it go so easily. "Regardless of whether she saved you once or not, the fact remains that Buffy is a renowned serial killer, one that the Council would have eliminated immediately in this situation."

"That's what I said," Xander interjected, "but she was already trying to drag her down the sidewalk when I found them."

"Giles," Willow pleaded, and gave him the most pitiful look he'd ever seen, eyes wide and shining, teeth gently biting her lower lip. He took a deep breath and sighed again. Females.

"What would you have me do?" he asked her.

Willow brightened, "Well, I think we can spare a band-aid or two for a renowned serial killer."

It took much, much more than a band-aid or two. They turned her on her stomach to inspect her back, a mess of torn and bloody fabric. Giles had to cut open the back of her top, which was stiff with dried blood and in one place pinned down by a shard of imbedded glass. The landscape of Buffy's bare back was riddled with textures of sliced flesh. A few pieces of glass glistened underneath the flashlight Willow held.

There was also a bullet in her shoulder, but what attracted Giles' attention first was the faint, blinking red light he could see in her lower back. Giles dug a dart out of Buffy's back with a pair of tweezers. A small red bulb blinked intermittently at the top. They all stared at it for a moment.

"Tracer!" Xander exclaimed suddenly. "It's like a homing beacon! I bet they tagged her with it so they could regroup and track her later." He paused, and then said slowly, "which would lead them here."

"Get rid of it," Giles ordered, and the boy sprinted toward the bathroom.

An hour later Giles had pulled all the fragments of glass and the bullet out, and Willow had used up all of his butterfly bandages on Buffy's back. Giles retrieved one of his old polo shirts, the once bright white fabric now a dull gray, and dressed the vampire in it for modesty.

He had been concerned that Buffy might wake while they were patching her up, but she had remained blessedly unconscious. Now she was chained to the plumbing in his bathroom, and he had no idea what to do with her.

Giles needed to get in touch with Spike. Now.


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Summary**: Buffy, a vampire with a grudge against the Council, is captured by the Initiative and finds herself dependent on her enemy: Spike the Vampire Slayer and his band of white-hats.

**Pairing**:Buffy and Spike

**Rating**:PG-13

**Thanks:** To **justsue** for being a great beta!

**Chapter 5**

**Sunnydale, 1999**

Spike heard about the prank on Stevenson Hall at breakfast the next morning. Technically it was lunchtime, but for him and most of the other students that hadn't stumbled into bed before 4 am it was still their first meal of the day. It never occurred to Spike to check on Willow. He'd probably run into her later, then he could make with the sympathies and ask her how she was doing. It was a bloody stupid question, really. _I know your first love just left you high and dry, but how are ya holdin' up? _

Honestly, he didn't know if there was anything he could do for her, and that pissed him off. She wasn't up for partying, she didn't want to get smashed, and rebounding was out of the question for her. What else could he do but give her time and space to sort herself out? Spike had found a whole new self after Cecily, after she'd crushed all his adolescent hopes and dreams in one brutal moment of public humiliation. The grief and rage, coupled with his emerging Slayer powers, had led him to a different part of himself, and he didn't regret for one moment his transformation into Spike. Willow would find herself too, it was just a matter of time.

What changed Spike's mind about checking on Willow was seeing the broken glass in the taped-off area underneath her dorm window. She wasn't in her room and Janet, Willow's party-girl roommate, couldn't tell him anything about what happened or where Willow was. He checked the library, but she wasn't studying. He checked the science labs, but she wasn't doing any hocus-pocus. There were no classes on Sunday, so where else would she be? The answer was… nowhere. Willow was missing. Spike figured now might be one of those moments when he should call Giles.

The phone was picked up after the second ring. "Spike?" Giles asked.

"Red's been kidnapped," Spike said immediately.

"What?"

"Red's been kidnapped," he repeated, "her window's broken and I can't find her."

"Willow hasn't been kidnapped," Giles replied, sounding inappropriately impatient to Spike.

"Yes she has, you old git, and the longer we stand around—"

"Spike," Giles cut him off, "something happened last night and Willow spent the night at Xander's."

"Oh," was all Spike said at first. Then, "what happened?"

"A number of things, actually." Spike could hear the stress in Giles' voice. "I believe a meeting is in order."

"Right." Spike was on his way before Giles even hung up the phone.

Fifteen minutes later he was walking in Giles' front door. Sunnydale was a small town, you were never more than a half-hour drive from Main Street. Willow, Xander, and his new tag-along Anya had arrived minutes before him, and were now all tucking in to a box of fresh doughnuts. Spike had just eaten, but he grabbed a jelly doughnut anyway. "So, what's goin' on?" he asked around a mouthful of pastry.

"So nice of you to drop by," he heard Giles mutter underneath his breath.

"Look, I've been busy," Spike said defensively. Of Giles' look he added, "with takin' down the forces of evil night after night _and _gettin' a good and proper education, just like you wanted." Giles didn't say anything more about the matter.

A faint scraping sound came from the hallway, somewhere in the bathroom, Spike guessed. "You got a houseguest?" he asked Giles, eyebrows raised. Willow and Xander would never suspect it, but ol' Rupert had a honey or two back in England. Giles played it cool, he was very discreet about any ties that remained from his pre-Watcher days. Spike had met Olivia once, though, a few months after Giles formally adopted him and they moved to America. She'd been in Mexico with a missionary, building low-rent houses, and made a side-trip through California on her way back to England just to hook up with "Ripper".

"Your best-buddy Buffy is back in town," Xander said.

"Buffy," he reiterated in an annoyed tone. "That bitch just won't give up, will she? When is she going to get it through her thick skull that she can't kill me?" Spike paused in his emphatic tirade, remembering the last time he'd had a run in with the "Slayer of Slayers". She very well could have killed him then. But no one else knew about that, and he preferred that it stayed that way. A loud, metallic _clang _reverberated from the bathroom.

Lowering his voice, he asked, "How do you know she's in town? Do you know where she's shacked up?"

"She tried to kill me last night," Willow piped up, "but so did the commandos."

"The soldier-boys?" Spike asked, wondering if he'd missed something.

"And she's currently enjoying the comfort of Giles' five-star bathtub," Xander said with a small grin. An image rose in Spike's mind of the female vampire lounging in a bath of warm soapy water, filled almost to the brim. Lit candles were scattered around the room, creating an ethereal shine that reflected off the water and made her skin glow. Soft jazz played from an omnipresent speaker…Giles coughed awkwardly and Spike snapped back to reality.

"What Xander means to say it that she's currently chained to my bathtub."

With a sudden jolt of understanding, Spike dropped his half-eaten doughnut back in the box and stormed down the hall. He flung open the bathroom door without hesitation. Spike half expected her not to be there, but there she was. Laying in Giles' bath, hands and feet shackled together and chained to the water pipe. And bugger him if she didn't look brassed off.

"Buffy," he said in a menacing voice.

"Spike," she spat back, with just as much malice.

Giles, Willow, Xander, and Anya somehow all managed to cram their way into the bathroom behind him.

"Thought you were done being a royal pain in my arse."

"Yeah, well so did I," she snapped. "I didn't ask to be chained up in your bathtub!"

"I can easily fix that for you." Spike pulled a stake out of his back pocket. He stepped forward, intent on ending the existence of the most annoying vampire he'd ever met, excluding Angel. Spike gripped his stake and the muscles in his arm tensed in preparation. Then he stopped abruptly and looked at the people behind him.

"Why is Buffy chained up in your bathroom?" he asked Giles. Giles gave a pointed look to Willow, who folded her arms defensively.

"She has information about the commandos," she paused and looked uncertain, "in theory."

"And we have reason to believe that Buffy can no longer harm living creatures," Giles told him.

"That's right!" the vampire said suddenly, as if just remembering something. "Those GI Joe guys, they did something to me. They're evil. You should stop them, but tell them to fix me first!"

"I'd say they already did," Anya remarked flatly.

Spike blinked. "Buffy's been defanged?"

"It would appear so," Giles confirmed. The vampire in question slumped in the bath and fixed all of them with a cold glare. Spike noticed for the first time since seeing her that Buffy didn't have the healthy glow she normally carried. Splotches of dirt stood out against her complexion, which was considerably paler than he remembered, and her lips were dry and cracked. For the first time, Buffy looked exactly like what she was: dead. Whatever thoughts were playing in her mind were hidden behind a stony, almost calm exterior. The only thing that gave her away was her eyes. They were the same as they had always been; Buffy's eyes never changed to the eerie yellow that other vampires had, but looking at them Spike was struck with a strong impression that Buffy was a wild cat, tensed to pounce at any moment. Spike shook off a chill.

"Well this is just neat," he exclaimed tauntingly. "So let's make with the interrogating. The sooner we do, the sooner we can wash Buffy-dust down the drain."

"We can't kill her." Spike looked at Giles with surprise. He was used to rowing with his mentor, but this wasn't an issue that should spark opposition. Especially since Spike was on his own now, in college and mostly Watcherless, and he called the shots now. "Against my better instincts, it is not in our nature to kill creatures that are," Giles paused to search for the right word, "innocuous."

"So what are we going to do with her?" Xander asked. "I mean, we don't even know for sure that she _is_ harmless, so we can't just let her go. And I don't really think Giles wants to share his bathroom with a vampire."

"Quite right," the older man agreed, "but I think our first priority should be to find out about the commandos. Regardless of what happened to Buffy, they could very well be a threat to us."

"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" Buffy said icily. "Maybe I think it'd be funny if you all woke up in a giant hamster cage with epilepsy."

"I could do a truth spell," Willow offered. "That way she has to answer our questions and tell the truth."

Giles thought that was a fine idea, and made a list of everything Willow would need to pick up at the magic store. He sent Xander and Anya with her to "help," but Spike suspected it was just to get them out of his house. The ex-Watcher looked like he'd had his tweed ruffled.

"Why don't you wait in the living room until the others return," he suggested to Spike, before wandering into the kitchen to put on a pot of water. Spike snorted. He wasn't going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs until the gang got back, and Giles knew that. Willow could do her chanting and lighting of smelly herbs, but when things needed to get done, it was Spike who turned things from push to shove.

He kicked the bathroom door shut and knelt next to the bathtub. Spike rested his arms on the rim of the bath, and stared hard at his enemy. "Now it's just you and me, love," he said to her. "And as far as I'm concerned, you've been living on borrowed time ever since you came back to Sunnydale. Start talking now and maybe you'll live a little longer."

------

**Sunnydale**

**December 12, 1998**

A deep-rooted ire had taken hold of Spike's gut. Every moment that passed by felt tangible, like a shower of hellfire stocking his burning rage to its limit. It seemed to Spike that he was filled to the brim with anger, one more drop and he'd combust from the overflow of emotion. The anger that Spike accepted wholeheartedly, though, was only a shield against the more painful emotions that were buried at the heart of it. Anger was something he could channel with his body, something he could beat out by beating his foes. The hurt and betrayal only seemed to spiral out of control with any action he took.

Spike had bloody known that Giles was withholding something from him about what was happening. He was too casual about it, more so than he should have been if his only concern was worrying Spike. Spike had known that Giles knew something, but he had never suspected his Watcher was the cause of it.

The bastard hadn't just drugged him and taken away his Slayer powers. Giles had played with his mind. He'd used a pile of bleeding rocks to hypnotize him, and then pretended like he still cared once Spike snapped out of it. And now, thanks to Giles, Spike was walking his last mile.

It didn't matter that Giles had told him not to go, the old man was a fool to have thought he could change anything after he'd administered the first injection. Quentin Travers had made that outstandingly clear. It was either walk in to the abandoned house now of his own volition with a single stake tucked in his duster pocket, or wait for Weatherby to knock him out and probably wake up in the house weaponless.

Spike realized now that this is what Angel had probably wanted to warn him about. He'd gotten a message from the Poofter around lunchtime, an unusual hour for a vampire to be up. He needed to tell him something important, something that couldn't be recorded on an answering machine. Spike had actually meant to call Angel back too, but while he was rooting around for the number of Angel's new agency in LA, Giles had decided it was time for another lesson in crystals.

"Spike."

Spike had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, staring bleakly at the abandoned house in front of him, that he'd never noticed the figure that had come to stand beside him. Fate was definitely not on his side tonight, Spike decided, as he turned to face Buffy. The one vampire he could never kill now had him at her mercy. At least now he wouldn't have to die at the hands of a Council picked vampire, although he really wasn't seeing much benefit.

"Came to have another crack at me, have you? I have to admit, I was surprised you gave up in the first place." Bravado was good. Maybe if he didn't act like he was completely fucked, he would start to believe it.

"I didn't 'give up,' I just didn't need you dead yet," Buffy retorted.

"An' you need me dead now?" Spike asked.

"No," Buffy said with a sigh, "I needed you dead three days ago, but I got delayed in LA."

"So now you've got to pay an overdue fee when you kill me?"

Buffy didn't respond to that, but changed the topic instead. "Where's your Watcher?" she asked.

Spike narrowed his eyes. "You know, I have half a mind to tell you, but he's probably already getting a royal whipping from his boss right now. I don't think he needs to be killed on top of that."

Buffy's features softened for some reason Spike couldn't discern, and she said quietly, "He's better than most, then."

"Right," he said, confused, "well if you're not going to kill me just now, I've got an almost certain death to greet in that house over there," he gestured across the street. Buffy stepped out of his way and he moved past her.

"I would kill you," she said suddenly, stopping him with a hand on his arm, "but I can tell you're going to survive this."

"Uh huh," Spike responded slowly, "so you're not going to kill me until somebody else threatens to do the job for you?"

Buffy stepped in front of him again and rested her head on his chest. "It's strong," she murmured after a moment, and Spike wasn't sure if she was talking about his heartbeat or something else. "You won't be seeing me again." One of her hands slipped under his duster and traveled to his back pocket. It was a strange sensation to be felt up by your mortal enemy, Spike decided right then, although it wasn't horrible.

As quickly as she had embraced him, Buffy let go and turned on her heel. She walked away casually, like she was an average Sunnydale citizen taking an ill-advised stroll after dark. Spike watcher her until she was a block away, and then crossed the street.

It looked like any house of horrors should: dilapidated, boarded up windows, creaky doors, the foundation probably on a slant. And inside was a hungry vampire. What more could a Slayer ask for on his birthday?

Spike was half hoping the vampire would attack as soon as he crossed the threshold, at least then he wouldn't have to search the house for it, but he had no such luck. He crept from the entranceway to the kitchen and still saw no sign of the vampire. Spike supposed he could sit down and wait for the demon to come find him, but something about the expression "sitting duck" kept him moving. This way Spike might even be able to make the first move.

It only took a few minutes for Spike to figure out the vampire wasn't on the first floor. It was probably holed up in one of the upstairs rooms waiting for Spike to find it. As he mounted the rickety staircase it groaned with ever step he took, and Spike considered turning around right then and walking out of the house. Watcher's Council be damned, he wasn't taking orders anymore. Spike was done jumping through hoops for a bunch of stuffy ponces. Of course, if he walked out now Weatherby would probably kill him.

Spike looked down the hallway at the top of the staircase to the line of doors. They were all ajar except for the furthest. He walked straight to the closed door and took a deep breath. Spike opened the door quickly.

He didn't even have to worry about looking for the vampire, because as soon the door opened the demon hurtled out and they both slammed into the opposite wall. Spittle sprayed Spike's face and he had a moment to register the creature's fetid breath before it tried to bite him. He ducked out of the way of the descending fangs and punched the vampire in the jaw, probably doing more damage to his own fist.

The vampire snarled in anger and punched Spike in the stomach hard enough to send him flying several feet back towards the stairs. Spike didn't bother trying to breathe again right away, but crab-crawled backwards a few steps before the vampire was on him again. He pulled out his stake this time and tried to impale the creature when it grabbed him by the shoulders. The stake was harmlessly batted away and went clattering down the stairs.

Now weaponless, defeat seemed the most probably outcome. Even before he'd entered the house, Spike knew the odds were stacked against him, just like they were against every other Slayer before him. The Cruciamentum test was the embodiment of everything it meant to be a Slayer. Alone, close to death, and determined.

Spike was determined not to die now, by the hands of a Council picked vampire. He'd snuff it one day, probably one day in the near future, but it wouldn't be for anything less than saving the world. Of that, Spike was positive.

He used his legs to shove the vampire away from him, and scrambled after his stake. The vampire recovered before Spike was half way down the stairs, and pounced on his back. The two of them tumbled down the rest of the way in a tangle of limbs and curses. The vampire toppled over Spike and was the first to hit the floor. Spike rolled over it and collided with the wall. Something in his back pocket jabbed into his arse.

The vampire climbed to his feet before the room had even stopped spinning for Spike. A grubby hand closed around Spike's throat and lifted him off his feet. Spike blinked dazedly. The vampire opened its jaws and roared at him like a feral animal.

Spots started to play around the edges of his vision, but Spike could still see the fangs drawing in closer and closer. On a desperate whim, Spike whipped the object out of his back pocket and jammed it into the vampire's eye without pausing to see what it was. The result was immediate. The vampire dropped him and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Spike took several deep breaths, his hands on his knees, before he looked up at the screaming vampire.

The creature continued to shriek and wail while it clawed at what used to be its eye. Dark red blood that was almost black and a clear liquid ran out of a smoking socket. A silver chain also hung from the thing imbedded in the vampire's eye socket. Spike found his stake again and dusted the vampire, putting it out of its misery.

As the dust settled, Spike saw the silver chain glinting up from the floor. As he retrieved it, the crucifix dangled from the chain, painted red with the vampire's blood.

------

Timeline

January 1, 1900 (America)- "Girl" (pretty sure we all know who it is…) meets Angel

**1996 (London)- Spike is Called**

**1997 (Sunnydale)- Spike and Giles move to Sunnydale**

Spike meets Buffy for the first time

December 12, 1998 (Sunnydale)- Spike's birthday and Cruciamentum test

1999 (Sunnydale)- Buffy returns to Sunnydale and is captured by the Initiative

**Bolded events haven't been specifically dated in the story.**


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer**: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

**Summary**: Buffy, a vampire with a grudge against the Council, is captured by the Initiative and finds herself dependent on her enemy: Spike the Vampire Slayer and his band of white-hats.

**Pairing**:Buffy and Spike

**Rating**:PG-13

**Thanks:** To **justsue** for being a great beta, and everyone who's reviewed!

**A/N: Sorry about the delay! The story has gone through a bit of a reworking. There are additional scenes in several of the chapters, and some small adjustments made here and there. If you've been following the story, I suggest going back and rereading. (8/26/06)**

**Chapter 6**

**Sunnydale, 1999**

Riley kept his hands quietly folded in his lap and concentrated on not looking guilty. It was easier said than done. Three pairs of eyes stared hard at him from across the table, taking in his every tick. And Riley was sure there was a hidden camera somewhere in the room.

He had been assured several times that this was not an interrogation—just a friendly questioning—bit it sure felt like one.

"What was Professor Walsh doing while you were in her office?" Colonel Godfrey asked him.

"She was repairing the HST database, sir." Riley wasn't surprised with the thorough questioning he was getting—nothing had ever escaped from the compound before—but the redundancy was tiring. Godfrey should have known that Walsh was repairing the database.

Still, Godfrey kept his calculating gaze on Riley and said, "We recently bought a new server. The database hasn't crashed in weeks."

"Colonel Godfrey," Dr. Angleman interjected, "it is not your job to know what goes on in the science labs." The scientist and the colonel engaged in a silent stare-down.

Riley's brain was trained to asses hostile situations and make snap decisions. Although he was also trained not to question authority, he considered his current situations as hostile territory. So it only took a matter of milliseconds for Riley to realize that not only had Walsh lied to him, she had lied to him about something important. If even Godfrey wasn't authorized to know about it, then Walsh and Angleman were working on something big.

Dr. Angleman broke the staring contest with Godfrey, his body language clearly indicating he had more important things to do than concern himself with a militiaman.

"Agent Finn, it's crucial that we find the vampire that escaped," Colonel Godfrey told him. "Now that it's evaded you once, you'll have a harder time finding it, which is why I want two teams out there scouring the area every night. The vampire won't have gone far, it'll stay near town trying to feed. Find it and kill it."

Dr. Angleman objected, "Actually, this is strictly a tag and bag mission." Godfrey glared at the doctor. "Hostile 17 is of special interest to the science department."

It didn't seem to Riley like they were talking about Buffy. Hostile 17 was just a thing, another mission to complete so the science department could study it and pick it to pieces. They couldn't pick Buffy to pieces…she was Buffy.

"My concerns have been addressed," Dr. Angleman said in way of closing, and got up and left the room.

Colonel Godfrey kept Riley pinned to his chair with a steely glare.

"We're not done with you yet, Agent Finn. As of now, you will work with Staff Sergeant Richardson's squad."

Riley's attention shifted to the young woman sitting next to Colonel Godfrey, Hayes' replacement. Throughout the interview she'd remained silent and observing. She glanced over at Godfrey, and with a slight nod of her head, the Colonel got up and left the room.

Richardson let an uneasy minute tick by, calmly watching Riley try not to squirm in his seat, before she addressed him.

"I understand, Agent Finn, that you have become accustomed to certain privileges here," she began. "Professor Walsh speaks highly of you."

Riley couldn't deny it. All he could do was stare straight ahead and answer, "yes ma'am."

"I've been at the base less than sixteen hours and I've seen how favoritism runs this place. And that's something I don't believe in. Don't expect pats on the back from me, Finn. I'm going to change the way this base is run, and you're going to be the first to see it."

Staff Richardson left him there without a dismissal or demand for confirmation. Riley watched how her tight, black ponytail swished back and forth when she walked. She was quite possibly the scariest thing Riley had ever seen.

------

Buffy was having trouble concentrating. She hadn't been able to retract her fangs since all those humans came in and stared at her. She focused on the words that were coming out of the Slayer's mouth and tried not to let her gaze wander to the pulse point in his neck. Staring at his face didn't help much, though, because she could practically _feel_ the rich blood flowing only a meager two feet from her. It was like a thrum that resonated throughout her body and teased her bloodlust.

All blood, regardless of the creature it came from, carried life energy in it. Vampires had to take the life energy of others so that their own bodies could function and repair itself. A Slayer's blood was especially potent. It was revered in the vampiric community as an exquisite delicacy and powerful aphrodisiac, although few had ever tasted it. Buffy could confirm both of those rumors from experience.

She suddenly became aware that Spike was staring right back at her. He wasn't talking anymore. Buffy couldn't remember what he'd said, but she was pretty sure it was her turn to say something. "Maybe," she tried ambiguously.

"Maybe what?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Why'd you come back to Sunnydale?" Spike asked again in an annoyed snarl.

"I was bored," Buffy snapped back. He didn't believe her.

It was true, though. Buffy had been bored. After the last time she'd left Sunnydale Buffy realized she didn't have anything to do with her life anymore. She knew Spike was going to survive the Cruciamentum test, and Buffy didn't really see the point in killing him after that. She was missionless until Spike died and another Slayer was Called.

Feeling purposeless, she went to the one place where a demon didn't need a purpose: the Hellmouth. Hellmouths were like demon beacons. Demons from all over the world were unwittingly drawn to the supernatural energies that seeped through from the hell dimension. Buffy figured it had something to do with a homey feeling, which was ironic, because most demons in the mortal realm wanted to stay there. Just like humans.

Buffy let herself wander back into Sunnydale and started dropping in on college classes after dark, pretending to be a student. It was fun and made her feel accomplished. She was exploring the opportunities she never had as a human. Her return to Sunnydale had nothing to do with Spike or the Watcher's Council, although she couldn't deny that the thought of running into the Slayer had filled her with a strange excitement.

"If you're not going to talk then I may as well stake you now," Spike threatened.

"It's hard to talk on an empty stomach," Buffy complained. She knew Spike wasn't going to stake her. Well, she was pretty sure.

"You want blood, then?" he asked. She didn't bother answering.

Spike leaned over the bathtub and showed her the underside of his wrist. "Look at that," he taunted, "see that vein there?" She knew he was messing with her, but Buffy still couldn't tear her eyes off the blue vein. He said something else, but Buffy wasn't listening anymore.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Buffy leaned forward. There was some reason why she shouldn't drink, but at the moment Buffy couldn't remember it. Her lips parted and she took several short reflexive breaths. A scent filled her, although it somehow felt like more of an apparition of a scent than a tangible smell. It reminded Buffy of something from her past, standing in the kitchen with her mother and little sister making spiced apples and eggnog. The snow whirled and rained down terribly outside, but inside she was safe and happy and warm. It was Heaven, Spike smelled like Heaven. Buffy's eyes started to droop as her lips closed around warm flesh.

The next thing she knew, white-hot pain tore through her brain. Buffy's head fell back against the tub while her body rode out the convulsions and the shackles clanged noisily. Oh, right. That's why she wasn't supposed to bite.

Tears prickled Buffy's eyes as she finally realized what this meant. She was helpless. She couldn't feed, couldn't fight, couldn't defend herself. As a vampire, she had no way of taking care of herself in this world. She was completely helpless. Buffy hadn't felt this way for a hundred years.

She didn't look at Spike again, not wanting the see the mocking smirk dancing across his features. Instead, she rested back against the tub and kept her eyes closed. Buffy was hurt enough as it was.

She heard Spike leave the bathroom. He started talking with Giles, and Buffy could hear everything they said with her enhanced senses.

"She's safe," Spike declared.

"I told you not to do anything," Giles scolded half-heartedly. He didn't ask how Spike knew, which Buffy was grateful for. She didn't want to hear it.

"Well, I suppose it's good to know," the older man continued, "because we're going to have to move her out here to do the spell."

Buffy heard the heavy trod of Spike's boots coming back towards the bathroom.

"Oh, and Spike?" Giles called after him, "you can take the shackles off, but the less mobile she is, the better I'll feel."

The Slayer came through the door a moment later, his expression neutral. "Hands," he ordered, and Buffy felt pathetic holding her wrists out for him to unlock. Spike deftly freed her wrists and ankles from the shackles. Buffy immediately scrambled out of the tub and stretched her back

"C'mon, Barbie." Spike took hold of her arm and pulled her into the living room.

"It's Buffy," she bit out angrily and jerked her arm back.

"Get in the chair," he said, and gestured to a dinning chair that was pulled away from the table.

"I'd prefer to stand, thanks," Buffy replied defiantly and raised her chin. She felt pathetic, helpless, and humiliated that the Slayer had seen her cry. If the only power she had was making Spike's life more difficult, then she'd capitalize on every opportunity.

"Get in the chair before I put you there."

"No."

Making true on his threat, Spike swept Buffy off her feet with one arm behind her knees and the other around her shoulders. She scowled as he carried her over to the chair, and then pinched him hard in the ribs.

Once again, Buffy felt pain explode in her brain and her body jerked, although not as intense as before. "Oh come on, I can't even do that?" she whined. Spike dropped her unceremoniously into the chair.

The Slayer left the room for a moment, and then it was just Buffy and Giles. Something occurred to her then. Giles hadn't called the Council. If he'd called before Buffy woke up, operatives would have already arrived and killed her. The Watcher's Council was based in Great Britain, but they always had enough people traveling throughout the world that someone could have reached her within three hours. And Buffy could hear everything that went on in the kitchen and living room from her position in the bathroom, so she knew he hadn't called since she woke up. That was interesting, on top of being a huge relief.

"You aren't Spike's Watcher anymore, are you?" she asked him, remembering what Spike had said to her last year. _He's getting a royal whipping from his boss right now._

Giles looked at her for a moment, as if debating whether or not it was safe to talk to her. "No," he conceded finally, "no, I'm not."

"So who is?"

"No one, actually. Spike and I no longer work for the Council."

"What?" she whispered. Buffy got a sudden feeling that the world had been turned upside down, and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Slayers didn't work for the Council, they never had. Slayers were _owned_ by the Council. There was no stopping.

"A year ago Spike quit the Council," Giles told her.

"Now we're freelancers," Spike said, coming back into the room with a coil of rope tucked underneath his arm, "don't take orders from the Council of Wankers anymore."

It was a good thing, Buffy decided. She smiled.

"Council of Wankers," she said, trying it out, "I like it." Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Spike knelt in front of Buffy and started tying her ankles to the legs of the chair. "You don't have to do that," she said petulantly.

"For my comfort, he does," Giles remarked. Buffy glared at him and resisted the childish urge to stick out her tongue.

Spike continued to secure her to the chair. He was close to her again, kneeling on the floor while he passed the rope around her torso and arms, and Buffy was again reminded that she hadn't fed in two days. She could faintly detect the heavenly smell of his blood.

There was a knock on the door, and Giles opened it to let Willow, Xander, and the new girl back in. Xander carried a brown grocery bag filled with magic supplies, and Willow had a plastic bag with something dark and red in it. Buffy sniffed the air suspiciously. It was animal blood of some type, probably from a cow or pig. Giles noticed the bag too and asked what it was.

"We stopped by the butcher's to pick up blood," Willow said. "It was Anya's idea."

"Starved vampires are great if you need a mass slaughtering, but with my newly human status, I don't want to be around one," Anya explained.

Buffy noticed her comment and looked at Anya speculatively. She'd figured there was something strange about the girl earlier, but she wasn't sure what. The strange-speaking Anya had residue of otherworldly energies clinging to her, like an oily coating on her skin that would take time to wash off.

"That was good forethought, Anya, we will need to feed her," Giles remarked, and the other girl brightened. His remark made Buffy feel kind of like an unwanted pet. _But as long as I'm getting blood…_

"Great!" Buffy put on a friendly smile, "so who's gonna untie me?"

Apparently Spike and his merry band of do-gooders were immune to her award winning charm. The Slayer stuck a straw in the plastic container the blood came in and held it under her face. After the second mouthful, Buffy felt her head start to clear and the desperate hunger in her recede. Spike pulled the blood away too soon.

"I wasn't done!" she protested.

"You'll get more after you've told us what we want to know," Spike said.

Willow and Giles had already started setting up for the spell. There were candles to be lit, sand to be poured, Latin incantations to recite, pretty much just the usual. Suddenly, Buffy started to panic. The Watcher's Council didn't know anything about her, something she'd worked hard to ensure. They even had scholars that specialized in analyzing her and theorizing about where she came from. If Giles was curious….Buffy didn't think she could live in a world that knew…

Everyone was startled when they heard a polite knock on the door. Giles glanced around the room at the occupants, and then back to the door. When he went to open it, everyone flocked behind him. Everyone except for Buffy, that is, who was still unhappily tied to the chair.

When the door swung open, all Buffy could see was a head of sandy brown hair.

"Uh, hi," a familiar voice said, "I'm here to, uh, check your crawl space for nests."

"He's an army guy!" Buffy shouted, feeling a surge of anger.

"Buffy?" Riley peered over heads at her.

"Well, I'd say we have more to discuss than rodents," Spike remarked.

------

**Timeline**

January 1, 1900 (America)- "Girl" (pretty sure we all know who it is…) meets Angel

**1996 (London)- Spike is Called**

**1997 (Sunnydale)- Spike and Giles move to Sunnydale**

Spike meets Buffy for the first time

December 12, 1998 (Sunnydale)- Spike's birthday and Cruciamentum test

1999 (Sunnydale)- Buffy returns to Sunnydale and is captured by the Initiative

**Bolded events haven't been specifically dated in the story.**


End file.
